


Of Green Scarves

by Aly_of_Ravenclaw



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_of_Ravenclaw/pseuds/Aly_of_Ravenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered why Ariadne has such a penchant for scarves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Green Scarves

 

            Ariadne walked into the warehouse early that morning, dreading the long day ahead of her.  Wednesday of next week, she and the team had an important job for a major company, and she hadn’t finished all the layouts yet.  Today was Thursday, and while everyone would be wound up tight today, she knew it would only get worse as the week progressed and the pressure increased.  She sighed, took out her keys and opened the door to an empty warehouse.  After locking the door behind her, Ariadne walked over to her desk and began her work.

            Two hours later, the only other person in the warehouse was Arthur, who needed to do more research on their mark.  Neither of them had spoken much, except for a short greeting when Arthur entered.  Ariadne gratefully sipped the last of the coffee Arthur had picked up for her on his way to work; he had known she would need something to keep her awake.  Thoughtfully fingering the soft green scarf around her neck, she bent over her sketch of the second level of the dreamscape.  Pencil in hand, she started to add more twists and turns, ensuring that the team would have places to hide from the projections.

            An hour later, nothing in the warehouse had changed.  No one else had arrived, so it was completely silent save for the noises of typing and the brush of graphite on paper.  Ariadne was fighting her eyelids to stay open, and touched her green scarf again for comfort.  She wore it whenever she was tired or stressed, because while she wore a scarf pretty much everyday, the green scarf was good luck.  It had belonged to her mother.

            For as long as Ariadne could remember, her mother had worn the scarf.  It was soft green silk with subtle hints of a plaid pattern. The scarf always smelled like her mother, of spices and warmth and a light, lilac-scented perfume.  She wore it everywhere; shopping for groceries, picking Ariadne up from school, and cooking dinner.  When Ariadne was thirteen, she had asked her mother, “Why do you always wear that same green scarf? I gave you a scarf for Christmas and you never wear that one.”

            “Its good luck, sweetie,” Ariadne’s mother had replied, absently stroking her daughter’s hair. “But I’ll wear the scarf you gave me too.  It’s beautiful.  Who knows? Maybe it’s good luck too.”

            The next day, Ariadne had been delighted to see her mother wearing the scarf the Ariadne had given to her for Christmas.  But just under the light pink laced with thin ribbons of gold, Ariadne had noticed a hint of green and had smiled to herself.  Her mother just wasn’t the complete without the green scarf.

            When Ariadne was fifteen, she had asked her mother, “Why is the scarf good luck?” At the time, she and her mother had been watching a movie and has paused it to make more popcorn.  Upon hearing the question, Ariadne’s mother had looked away from the popping corn in the microwave and had stared out the window with a misty smile. “I was wearing this scarf when I first met your father.”

            The day that came five months, two weeks, and three days after Ariadne’s seventeenth birthday was a Thursday.  It was also the day her mother had to take a late night shift, because money those days was had to come by.  It also happened to be the day that a six foot tall man with grey eyes and brown hair had decided to drink away his sorrows.  He had told Ariadne he was sorry, that he hadn’t scene the red light, but Ariadne had ignored him and stared blankly at the green scarf in her hands.

            The doctor had said her mother was lucky.  A crash like that usually led to a painful death that medicine could only ease a little, he had said.  Ariadne’s mother had felt very little pain, and had lived long enough to see Ariadne visit her in the hospital, to take off the green scarf with trembling hands and push it towards Ariadne with a whispered, “I love you, sweetie.”

            No matter how many times the man with the brown hair apologized, it wouldn’t matter.  He had taken away her mother.  She had looked back down at the scarf in her hands, and had prayed it really was good luck.

*           *           *           *           *

            Ariadne woke to the sound of someone knocking on her wooden desk.  She groaned and slowly lifted her face up off her arms, dimly registering that her cheeks were wet.

            “What?” she groaned sleepily.

            “Ariadne, darling, you need to get to work.  The job is in six days and you still need to design the second layer of the dream.  Cobb’s pissed.  You know how he is; everything has to go as planned or he starts throwing furniture.  And we really shouldn’t be spending so much money replacing lawn chairs, of all things.  Are you crying?” Eames asked, shocked.

            “What? No,” Ariadne said, wiping away the evidence.  “Wait…Cobb knows I fell asleep?

Shit!”

            “No, he just knows you’re not done working.  He actually threatened to force you to stay in the warehouse until you finished.”

            Ariadne grimaced, “Well, thanks for waking me up before he —,”

            “You fell _ASLEEP!!_ ’ Cobb roared.

            Eames whirled around and Ariadne looked up quickly.

            “I…um...I…,” she stammered.

            “Don’t stutter at me,” Cobb snapped.  “This is _your_ job! We can’t perform the extraction unless we have a dreamscape!”

            “I know that Cobb, I —,”

            “Calm down, Cobb.  She doing the best she can —,”

            “CALM DOWN! Don’t tell me to calm down. We have SIX DAYS until this job, Eames! And if you think —,”

            By this time, Arthur had also walked over to Ariadne’s table to stop his hot-tempered best friend from saying or doing anything he would regret.

            “Cobb, we all know that,” Arthur said calmly.  “But you yelling about it is not helping at all.  Has Ariadne ever failed us?”

            “No, but —,”

            “But nothing.  Have a little faith.  You hired her for a reason.”

            Ariadne looked down and blushed.  Praise rarely came from the point man, and when it did, he sincerely meant it.

            Cobb stared at Arthur, but said nothing to him.  “Enough talking.  Ariadne, start working.”

            She nodded and started to look for her pencil.  Cobb watched her futile search for all of twenty seconds before loosing his temper again.

            “It’s right here,” he nearly snarled as he grabbed the pencil roughly from the folds of Ariadne’s scarf.  The point of the pencil caught in the stitching of the scarf, and it made a slight tearing sound when Cobb wrenched it free.

            “Here,” he said gruffly as he shoved the pencil at Ariadne.  She didn’t take it, allowing the pencil to fall on the table top and roll onto the floor.  Cobb took a moment to glare at the architect before stomping away.  Eames gripped her shoulder comfortingly before going back to his own table.  Only Arthur stayed, watching Ariadne as she slowly reached up to her neck to unwrap her scarf, tears already welling up in her eyes.  Her small hands looked over the silk scarf until they found the two inch long tear.  She stood up so fast her chair fell over, and, brushing past Arthur, she walked towards the door as fast as she could without running.  The door slammed shut with a sound similar to thunder.  Eames turned to look accusingly at Cobb, while Arthur strode over to the door to the door that had just closed.  Before leaving, he turned to Cobb, “You really need to keep your temper in check.  We may have just permanently lost our architect.”

            With that, he slammed the door shut too.

            Arthur could here Ariadne’s footsteps going up the stairs that lead to the roof.  He made sure to keep his own footsteps as quiet as possible, in case Ariadne didn’t really respond well to being followed.

            A few minutes later, he found her sitting cross-legged near the edge of the roof.  She was clutching her scarf close to her face, and her body was shaking with sobs.  Arthur stayed still, standing several yards behind Ariadne until her sobs subsided.  He coughed slightly to let her know he was there, and she turned around to look at him.  He walked closer until he was standing right next to her, and he looked at her questioningly.  She nodded in response to his unspoken question, and he sat down next to her and put his arm around her.  Arthur took it as a good sign that she didn’t shrug it off.

            “How long were you standing there?” Ariadne asked him.

            Arthur figured the truth wouldn’t hurt, “A while.”  He smiled sheepishly, and she returned the smile half-heartedly.

            “You must be wondering why I’m up here crying my eyes out over a scarf.”

            “I’m not. I know why.”

            She looked at him.

            “It was your mom’s, wasn’t it?” he asked softly.

            “But…how…how did you know?”

            “It came up in the research I had to do before Cobb hired you for the Fischer job,” Arthur answered simply.

            “Oh.”

            The pair sat in silence for a long time.

            Arthur gently took Ariadne’s hand and stood up.  “We should go back.”

            She didn’t want to, but she knew he was right, so she reluctantly let him help her up, and the two of them walked slowly back to the first floor of the warehouse.  Once they got there, Arthur walked Ariadne to her desk, and for the rest of the afternoon, she worked silently, determinedly avoiding Cobb’s gaze, and every so often touching the scarf that now sat in a heap on the corner of her desk.  Once she finished, she taught Eames the maze using the PASIV device and gathered up her scattered belongings to leave.  When she was just outside the door, Arthur caught up to her.

            “Hey,” he said, “Leaving already?”

            She nodded and turned to go.           

            “Ariadne, wait,” he said, gently grabbing her arm.

            “What?” she asked with no real curiosity.

            “Could I borrow your scarf?”

            She frowned. “Why?”

            He shrugged. “Don’t you trust me? Please?”

            “Why?” Ariadne repeated.

            “You’ll find out tomorrow,” he answered with a sly grin.

            Ariadne’s only response was to raise an eyebrow.

            “Why not tell me now?”

            “If I tell you now, it won’t be as interesting tomorrow,” Arthur said it like it was obvious.  “Nothing bad will happen, I promise. Trust me.” This time, it was more of a request than a question.

            Silently, Ariadne took the scarf off her neck and handed it to Arthur.  “If I don’t get it back tomorrow, you’ll regret it.”  Arthur knew she meant the threat.  He nodded solemnly, and she turned and walked briskly away.

            Arthur walked back into the warehouse.  “You’re stupid, Cobb,” he informed his best friend bluntly.

            Cobb looked up.  “How so?” he asked, his tone dangerously mild.

            “That was her mother’s scarf,” Arthur said, sitting down near Cobb, Eames, and Yusuf.

            “And?”

            “And her mother is dead.”

            “Oh.”

            Yusuf rolled his eyes, “You screwed up bad, mate.”

            “Thank you, Yusuf,” Cobb said coldly.

            “Anytime, man,” Yusuf replied with a grin.

            Arthur looked at Cobb.  “You know what you have to do now, right?”

            “No, what?”

            “You have to apologize.”

            “She’s the one who fell asleep.  It wasn’t my fault!” Cobb yelled indignantly.

            “It kinda was,” Eames drawled.

            Cobb glared at him. “Not helping, Eames.”

            “Not trying to, Cobb.”

            Arthur rolled his eyes.  “Cobb, I’m serious.  Do you want her to stay with the team?” Cobb nodded.  “Then apologize.”  Arthur got up to leave.

            “Wait, Arthur,” Cobb called.

            “Yeah?”

            “Why do _you_ have Ariadne’s scarf?”

            “Just in case you are incapable of fixing the problem, I have my own plan,” Arthur said coolly.  Seeing Cobb’s eyes light up, Arthur quickly added, “That doesn’t mean you get out of saying sorry.  It just means we have a back-up plan.”  With that, Arthur left.

*           *           *           *           *

            The next morning, Ariadne snoozed her alarm clock seven times.  By the time she got to the warehouse, all the others were already there.  The four men looked up when she entered, but she avoided their gaze as she walked over to her workspace.  Cobb got up and followed her.

            “Hey, Ariadne,” he said.

            “Morning Cobb,” Ariadne said flatly, looking anywhere except at him.  “My designs are done.  I taught the levels to Eames and Arthur. If you want me to, I’ll teach them to you too. But I don’t —,”

            “Ariadne,” Cobb cut her off.

            “What?”

            “I’m sorry.”

            She looked up at him.  “You…what?”

            “I’m sorry.  I overreacted yesterday, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you over the layouts.  It was just…I mean…the pressure got to me, I guess.  And I’m sorry about the scarf.”

            Ariadne gave a small smile.  “Its okay, the pressure gets to all of us. And about the scarf…well, it’s just a scarf.” Cobb could see it killed her to say that.  “And it’s just a small tear, it’s barely noticeable. And I…Arthur told you about my mom, didn’t he?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

            Cobb nodded.  “I really am sorry,” he repeated, and she could tell he meant it.

            Ariadne smiled and hugged her friend before returning to her work.  As Cobb walked away, Arthur came up.

            “Morning, Ariadne,” Arthur said cheerfully.  “I take it all’s well between you and Cobb?”

            “You were eavesdropping,” she accused with a smile.

            “It’s my job to know things,” Arthur said with a shrug.  “I have your scarf,” Arthur said, holding out a beautifully wrapped package.  Ariadne managed to open it without ripping the paper (okay, it ripped a little) and smiled when she saw the familiar green silk inside.  Her hand instinctively searched for the tear, and she frowned when she couldn’t find one.

            “It this the same scarf?” she asked Arthur dubiously.

            “Yes.” Arthur pointed out a two inch long line of small, precise stitches in the green fabric.

            “You can sew?” Ariadne asked Arthur in disbelief.

            “It’s a very useful skill! Especially when you live on your own,” Arthur said defensively.

            “Uh-hu,” Ariadne grinned.

            “I actually have something else for you,” Arthur said.

            “Trying to change the subject?”

            “Maybe.  But I really do have something.  He pulled out another, similarly wrapped present from his briefcase, but this one had a card attached.  The card was made of thick, off-white paper with a silver border. The inside of the card read,

_Ariadne,_

_Not because we think you need it, but because you can never go wrong with a little extra luck._

_Love from,_

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Cobb

Eames

Yusuf

Arthur

            Filled with curiosity, Ariadne opened the gift.  She pulled out long forest green scarf that was embroidered with flowers in different shades of red and orange.  She had no scarf like it, and she was sure that Arthur had known that when he picked it out.

            “It’s beautiful,” Ariadne whispered.

            “It may even be good luck,” Arthur said.  “Consider it a gift from your new family.”  Ariadne smiled and hugged Arthur.  Because he was right, she realized, looking around.  For the first time since her mother died, Ariadne had a family.

*           *           *           *           *

            The doorbell rang.

            “Coming!!” Ariadne yelled in the general direction of the door.  She answered the door as she was finishing wrapping the green embroidered scarf Arthur had given her around her neck.

            Arthur smiled when she opened the door.

            “You look beautiful, as always,” Arthur said, and kissed Ariadne on forehead.  She blushed.

            “Thank you.”

            Arthur touched Ariadne’s scarf, her neck feeling incredibly warm where his fingers brushed her skin.  “Do you really think you need good luck on your first date with me?” Arthur smirked.

            “I thought I could never go wrong with a little extra luck?” Ariadne said, quoting the card Arthur had given her nearly a year ago.  She knew the card had been signed by the team, but she also knew that the whole thing had been Arthur’s idea.

            “You can’t,” Arthur replied, and kissed her.  As Arthur pulled away to offer her his arm, she thought she could almost smell a hint of spices, and warmth, and lilac perfume, and in that moment she knew for a fact that scarf given to her by her new family was just as lucky as her mother’s green scarf.

         

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t planning on this becoming a romance, but I think it works. Anyway, thanks for reading. Now go leave a review! You know you want too :)
> 
> ~Aly
> 
> PS: This is what the scarf that Arthur gives to Ariadne looks like in my head. http://i1.squidoocdn.com/resize/squidoo_images/590/draft_lens18578981module153592966photo_1316871387floral-olive-green-scarf. but not as sheer and made of a softer material.


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